From the Ashes
by xlove4everx
Summary: Draco’s betrayal leads to Hermione’s downfall. He leaves and she is left to pick up the pieces alone. Several years later, he returns... can she forgive him? Can he forgive himself? and can love bloom from the ashes of the past?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay so this is my very first story... its Dramione and will actually have a plot to it so if you're looking for pure fluff and smut, this isn't the right story for you. It's rated M for some language and a few steamy little scenes a bit later in the story.

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter...otherwise I'd buy me some Draco ;)

"When the future's architectured by a carnival of idiots on show, you'd better lie low. If you love me, why'd you let me go?" - Coldplay

If Hermione's experience with life over the years had taught her one thing, it was that a knock on the door of your flat in the middle of the night was not good. Especially if none of your friends ever bothered to visit you during the daytime anymore, or perhaps didn't even know where you lived nowadays. Didn't even care enough to call every once in a while. Although…if she were being entirely truthful with herself, she'd have to admit that it was her own fault they got tired of her sullenness.

Warily, Hermione sat up in bed…perhaps it was somebody knocking at the door of the wrong flat. Completely innocent, mistakes tend to happen. Yet she could not stop her heart from beating overtime – a remnant of the paranoia that had kept her alive during the war. Very slowly, hardly breathing, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and shuffled across to her dresser. She threw a light dressing gown over her modest pajamas and silently crept along the dingy wooden floors. She could see her apartment door looming across the living room, especially foreboding in the dark. She had truly hoped to be done with all of this…all she wanted, after all that had happened, was to be left alone. She had suffered quite enough for one lifetime, she was too tired to fight off any more bad guys.

"Enough of this" she muttered to herself and crossed the rest of the living room in a fluid stride. She kept her wand at the ready, however, in case she had to recall her dueling skills from what felt like a decade ago. Taking a deep breath, Hermione leaned her hands against the door and peeped through the keyhole.

The very first thing she noticed was that his hair hung loose around his head, not gelled back. The next thing she noticed was that he wore a solemn, slightly frightened expression… one that she had only seen grace his face one other time. The last thing she noticed was that she had begun to hyperventilate. She couldn't hear anything besides the deafening ringing in her ears. She saw spots and knew that if she didn't sit down immediately she'd faint. She managed to perch herself on the side of the couch as she eyed the door warily. Why was he here? Why now? Why ever? Hadn't he done enough…

He knocked again, this time more forcefully. After a few more moments, Hermione's dizzy spell faded and she found that she was able to think clearly. She had two options…pretend she wasn't home and wait for him to leave or swallow the overwhelming pain spreading across her chest and open the door. She knew she should ignore him. It was prudent…perhaps even necessary for her sanity. Every fiber in her body screamed at her to stay where she was, to ignore the knocking. Yet somehow she found herself standing up, crossing the room once more, and opening the door.

He had been gazing down the hall, but when he heard the door hinge squeak his eyes snapped straight to hers. She gasped…she couldn't breathe again. His pale gray eyes held such sorrow…such humility that she had never seen before. He seemed to be at a loss for words, as though he wasn't even sure himself why he had come here. Minutes passed and still neither spoke…just stared at each other.

Finally, Hermione swallowed painfully and cleared her throat. "Draco Malfoy."

"The one and only," he replied, though his words seemed hollow…lacking the sarcastic bite they used to have. They almost seemed derisive, as though he were marveling at the bitter irony that the name he once revered should have sunk so low.

"What do you want?" Her question sounded icy even to her ears but she couldn't bring herself to care. So what if she hurt his feelings a little? He'd hurt hers first. He pretended to care for her, then turned around and fed her to the wolves, leaving her alone to put herself back together. She still couldn't come within five feet of a man… she couldn't look Harry or Ron in the eyes. She still put silencing charms around her room to keep anybody from hearing her scream in the night. He did this to her, it was his fault. Did he expect a warm welcome and open arms?

Draco cleared his throat uncomfortably and she noted for the first time that he looked like shit. It looked like he hadn't slept for days, he had a hint of stubble on his chin, and dark circles under his eyes.

"I just wanted to talk, Her – Granger."

"We did all our talking two years ago Malfoy. There's nothing left to say…get out."

"Actually there are things we left unsaid… things that need to be said, and I won't leave until we say them"

She stared at him like he had grown an extra head.

"Where are your manners Granger? Aren't you going to invite me into your charming little hovel?" His signature drawl was back but his face still held a hollow expression and his insult was half-hearted.

She had no idea why – perhaps out of pure shock – but she stepped aside, letting him gracefully push past her into her living room.

"Charming," he drawled again, making himself at home on her sofa.

She kept staring at him, part of her refusing to believe that he was actually here…that he'd come back. Finally, she made her way to the armchair farthest away from his sofa. This did not escape Draco's notice, and he chuckled humorlessly.

"There was a time Granger when you'd prefer my lap to any other seat in the house," he softly commented.

Her eyes grew cold.

"I assume you did not disturb me so late at night for a trip down memory lane Malfoy. Say your piece and get out of my house."

He heaved a great sigh at that and theatrically exclaimed, " why such hostility Granger? Is this how you treat all your schoolyard chums?"

However, as soon as he caught sight of her gaze all traces of mockery on his face were replaced with a pained guilt.

His voice got very quiet when he said, "you have a right to be angry with me, of course. But I never meant for this to happen…I never meant for you to get hurt. You may not believe me now, I've told you so many lies. But I didn't lie to you on one thing Hermione…I truly loved you."

If possible, her expression grew even colder and more furious.

He glanced at her, then quickly looked away.

"Believe me, if I had any choice I would have done things so very differently."

There was no mercy in her voice as she stated "there's always a choice. And you made the one that benefited you the most. You claim you loved me…you destroyed me Malfoy." Her voice turned into a deadly hiss, "You have no idea what happened that night."

He looked away again. Then suddenly all the fight seemed to deflate right out of her. Her shoulders slumped, and she ran a hand wearily over her eyes. She realized that the anger she felt towards him was superficial…mostly she felt numb, just like she had for the past two years.

"Please just leave Malfoy," she whispered, " You've said your apology and I don't want anything from you. I just want you to leave me alone, I can't handle this anymore."

Something in her voice told him she was serious and it touched his sense of guilt and remorse even more acutely. She sounded so defeated…as though she had seen much more than her fair share of pain and came out of it bitter and angry with the world. Most likely it was all his fault, but he didn't know if his betrayal had caused all this bitter rage or if there was more to the story. Silently, he rose from his seat and made his way back to the door. How could she think that he would willingly choose the life of a heartless killer over a life spent loving her? He stopped in the doorway, turned around, and looked sadly at her.

"You're wrong Hermione, there was never any choice."

What do you think? any potential? please review!!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: don't own Harry Potter...

"Right girl, wrong time. She's sweet, but I don't want to fall in love." - She Wants Revenge

Midnight found Hermione staring into the dying flames in her fireplace. Draco had left, but she still felt his presence in the room… in her very being. He had shaken up everything she had gotten used to over the past two years and she didn't like it, not one bit. Most of all she couldn't believe he had the nerve to just barge into her home asking for forgiveness after what he did. The flame flickered and Hermione found herself being pulled backwards into the past…into the decision that had changed her life forever.

Flashback:

Hermione sighed contentedly, perusing the shelves of the ancient Hogwarts library. It was a lovely Saturday afternoon, and the light flowing through the wide windows painted the room a bright yellow and highlighted the rainbow of book covers arranged along the shelves. She hummed to herself as she pulled a green-covered ancient tome from the shelf and headed to the table across the aisle. Suddenly she heard a frustrated groan coming from somewhere behind the bookshelf. Curious, she walked towards it and was surprised to find Draco Malfoy sitting at one of the small study tables, furiously ripping up a piece of parchment and burning the little pieces with his wand.

Hermione could not deny that she was a little shocked to see him like this…she had never seen him be anything but cool, calculating, and composed. Here he looked just like a regular student who had gotten a homework problem wrong… not much different from Harry or Ron for that matter. He ran a hand through his white-blond hair in frustration and finally glanced up to find her staring at him. His face instantly transformed into his signature smirk.

"Like what you see Granger?" He drawled. She could feel her cheeks begin to redden at being caught staring. She knew she should probably leave him alone or risk another round of verbal abuse… on the other hand she could see that he was doing the Charms essay professor Flitwick had assigned, and she had already finished hers. In a slightly charitable moment, she deliberated helping him… a reaction no doubt formed from helping the boys with their homework for the past five years. As she stood mulling her choices, Draco's smirk turned into an annoyed scowl.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," he spat, rolling his eyes. "what do you want Granger? Or is it just your habit to stare with your trap open?"

Yup, here comes the verbal abuse, she thought wryly. She sighed and started to move away when she saw him slam his charms book closed and start to get up.

"I could help you with that, you know"…she didn't know what possessed her to say it, so she started rambling, "I mean, it's that essay for charms right? I've already finished mine and it's really not that hard when you look up the right information, I could help you find it. What are you doing yours on? Mine was on the insidio charm…" she trailed off, knowing she was making a fool out of herself. Draco's expression did not do anything for her self-esteem either, he was looking at her as though he seriously doubted her mental competence.

Then, to her surprise he answered, "I'm doing it on the farcio charm… I thought it'd be easy but I can't find any information on it in any of these stupid books."

"Oh," she said flustered, not having expected an answer, "try this book, I think I cam across some useful information about the farcio charm in it once…"

He surprised her again by gesturing to the seat in front of him. She surprised him by taking it. And so they sat in the library, Gryffindor and Slytherin working together. Homework gradually led to conversation; conversation gradually led to friendship. And that was how Hermione first became involved with one Draco Malfoy.

By the end of the school year, Draco and Hermione were meeting regularly to do homework and usually stayed in the library till the late hours of night, until Madame Pince had to kick them out. Nobody knew about their secret friendship, or how that friendship grew to admiration and then, for Hermione, into love. They talked about everything. She told him about all of her fears…the war was coming closer, and she was afraid for the lives of her parents, her friends, and for her own life as well. He was afraid that his father would soon snap and force him to join the Death Eaters in order to redeem the family name. They both treated each other's problems with a sense of caring and understanding, pointedly ignoring the fact that, should the war reach them, they'd be on different sides. Hermione found it ironic how a mere few months ago she would not hesitate in thoroughly cursing him. She couldn't imagine fighting against him now… the very thought of having to decide between serving the light side and protecting him gave her chills, and she never allowed herself to dwell on her predicament for long.

Then came the last day of fifth year…it snuck up on both of them, although, more literally for Hermione. She was walking down the hall when she felt somebody grab her arm and roughly pull her into an empty classroom. She was just about to scream when that someone clapped a hand over her mouth. She heard a whispered "lumos" and saw that it was Draco, his face illuminated by the green-blue light and twisted with anguish. Hermione supposed that he had known, even then what he would eventually have to do.

Both of them knew what this day meant…they wouldn't be able to communicate at all over the summer…if anybody found out about them it would mean danger for them both. She wanted to tell him everything…show him how she felt before it was too late, before the world stopped spinning altogether. It wasn't fair…she couldn't be with him, yet she knew she couldn't be without him. And all the circumstances were conspiring to pull them apart, trap her in a box – perhaps with some boring man she'd never love – and make her feel empty for the rest of her life. Then at least she'd retain her reputation as the Gryffindor princess, even if it was a hollow heartless existence. It was expected, and she would do as she was expected. They both would.

There were no messy goodbyes, after all, Hermione didn't know yet how he felt about her. For all she knew she was just a friend…an unworthy friend at that, one he had to hide from everyone who mattered. But Draco was never one for playing games when it came to relationships and the fire in his eyes was burning with an intensity foreign even to him. In a fluid motion, he grabbed her wrists and pushed her against the closed door behind her. He raised both of her hands, still trapped in one of his, above her head, and caressed her cheek with his other hand. Then he kissed her. It wasn't a gentle, loving kiss. It was rough and filled with desperation, sorrow, and anger. When he pulled away his eyes were wild with so many emotions she couldn't single one out. But this was goodbye – as inevitable as the war drawing ever closer. He pushed past her, and with one last defeated glance closed the door in her face.

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter

A/N: The flashback will continue for two more chapters (including this one)... It will say "END FLASHBACK" when we rejoin Hermione in the present.

"run run run away, lost lost lost my mind, I'd like you to stay, want you to be my prize. All alone, not so strong without these open arms, hold on tight." -Yeah Yeah Yeahs

The flowers on the desk were wilting – a good reflection, Hermione thought, of her own heart. It was the last day of summer and Hermione had very mixed emotions about starting her sixth year at Hogwarts. On one hand it had been the hardest summer she had ever had. As hard as she tried, she could not successfully keep her mind off Draco for more than a few hours. She was beside herself with misery, trying to keep both her mind and body occupied with meaningless tasks to hold on to her last shred of sanity. It was harder at night…every time she closed her eyes she could smell him, feel his fingers brush so lightly on her cheek, feel his lips rubbing smoothly against hers…

She would squirm uncomfortably against the heat building between her legs, and finally give up, giving herself the pleasure she could not seek elsewhere. The part of her that was thick with need for Draco's touch could not wait to return to school, catch him in some dark corner, and snog him senseless. On the other hand, she was scared to death of returning to Hogwarts. It was far too dangerous, far too difficult for them to be together. She could very easily get him in trouble with his father, and by extension with the Death Eaters. She had no idea what she would do then. This wasn't like trouble in kindergarten, the punishment would be much more severe than a time out, she thought to herself sarcastically.

But there was another reason why she was afraid of coming back. As long as she stayed away, didn't see him again, she could pretend to herself that he was okay and happy. She could pretend that he hadn't been hurt by his father, that he hadn't been roped into the Death Eater squad, that he hadn't done anything other than be an admirable human being. Of course, she had to remind herself, she did not know for sure whether he'd taken the mark or not. But as long as it was summer she wouldn't have to find out. Ignorance, after all, was bliss.

In the end, Hermione was just as disappointed as she had expected to be. When she arrived at school and tried to speak to Draco alone she found him moody, snappish, and unresponsive. He had lost weight, grown even paler and more drawn. He looked stressed all of the time and wouldn't talk to her about anything. She could tell he was keeping a secret – the fact that he only wore long sleeves did not escape her notice either – but she hoped against all the odds that she was wrong. She hoped and prayed that her suspicions weren't correct – that he hadn't taken the mark after all. Whenever she tried to broach the subject of his secretiveness, he snapped at her or began to yell. He seemed to want nothing to do with her as he sunk deeper and deeper into himself, and there were times that Hermione would barely see him for months. It was more torturous than she could have imagined – all she wanted to do was hold him, comfort him and tell him everything would be alright. She wanted him to confide in her, to trust her. He was her everything, she wanted to be the same to him. But Draco pushed her further and further away as the year flew by in a blur. Finally she couldn't take it anymore, and confronted him in an empty hallway.

"What do you want me to tell you Hermione? What do you expect me to say? You know who my parents are, you know what crowd I run with, I can't tell you anything other than that," he snapped, frustrated.

"Yes, I'm well aware who your parents are Draco, but I don't see why you can't tell me what's going on. You know me. You know I would never tell anybody… just tell me what's happening…please," her last words trailed off. If possible, Draco looked even more helpless. He hated being helpless…so he got angry.

"Damn it Granger, always have to know everything do you? Has it ever occurred to you I don't want you to know? I don't want you poking your nose into my business, get that through your thick skull," he shouted, much harsher than necessary. Her eyes pooled with tears at his cruel words.

"I just want to help you, Draco. I know you're on some sort of mission… you disappear for hours on end, you look stressed all the time… maybe there's some way I can help you," she said, barely above a whisper. She paused. "I care about you…you know that."

Draco swallowed hard. This was not going the way he hoped. He had hoped he could push her away over the course of the year, deny all his feelings for her, save her from any involvement in the dark sinkhole that had become his life. It seemed that would not be happening. But in the end, he knew she'd hate him for everything he'd done, everything he was. He had taken the dark mark early in the summer…but now he was working on a mission. He would kill Dumbledore. He had to kill Dumbledore – and she would hate him. This thought had sent him spiraling into a deep sense of despair…how could he handle it? Become a murderer, tear his soul to shreds, and lose the one woman who had ever meant anything to him. He had to end it…now. Steeling his resolve and gathering all the strength he had in his worthless body, he prepared himself for his most difficult task.

"This isn't working Hermione," he said in a flat, emotionless voice, "we need to stop seeing each other."

She swore her heart stopped beating for a split second. "Wh…what?" she gasped.

"Look…we had a good time. Some good words, some good snogs, but it's about time to end it now. Don't talk to me again, it doesn't look good," he smirked.

Hermione stood still for a moment, trying to wrap her mind around his words and his heartless tone. He hadn't used that tone with her in over a year. Finally she took a deep breath and slowly choked out, "you…don't want me anymore?"

Draco nearly winced at the pain lacing her voice but held his ground. He forced a short, cruel laugh out of himself before drawling, "did you truly believe this would last Granger?"  
"Don't do this Draco. I know between us a "we" is impossible. I know we're on different sides of the river…but somehow, we can do it together, we can find a way to be together. I know it'll be hard but we can"

"Are you deaf Granger?" he interrupted. "I just said …I…don't…want…you," he clearly pronounced each word.

Now Hermione was starting to get angry…furious really.

"Well I guess you're pretty happy with yourself then Malfoy. Fooled me good didn't you? Going to go laugh about it in your Slytherin common room now? Laugh about how you lured the stupid little mudblood bint in then threw her out like a pile of garbage?!" she finished bitterly, her volume rising hysterically towards the end.

For a minute Draco was silent. Then, so quietly she almost didn't hear him, he said "don't use that word."

"Well why the hell not Malfoy? You think that word could hurt me more than what you just did?" She noted the tears flowing freely down her cheeks, and she was aware that her last shred of dignity had just flown out the window but couldn't bring herself to care. She turned her face away from him for a moment, gathering her resolve. Then, with a superhuman effort, Hermione forced herself to walk away.

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	4. Chapter 4

CH4

"It's nothing but time and a face that you lose. I chose to feel it and you couldn't choose." - "Your ex-lover is dead" by Stars

The days after that turned into weeks, then turned into months, and eventually, Hermione found herself forgetting the sound of Draco's voice, the way it was when he used to talk to her. She forgot what his kiss tasted like, and forgot how his eyes glowed when he used to look into hers. She forgot the way his lips turned up just a little bit when she teased him, and how his hair fell over his eyes and how he would impatiently brush it back and complain that he'd shave it all off one day. She forgot how safe she felt when she was in his arms, clinging to him as though her life depended on it, and how he would hold her back just as tightly through the entire night, letting her use his arm as a pillow even when it went numb. And she forgot the immense pain and salty tears that followed that night when he sent her away. She forgot all of that and lived a normal life...almost.

Hermione found that if she took all of those memories and put them in a little box in the back of her mind, she could go through the motions of the day as though Draco had never existed. She could go to all her classes and do her homework and laugh and joke with her friends and, if she tried hard enough, could even force down the nausea she felt every time she glimpsed him in a crowd. The only thing she couldn't quite control was the agonizing sense of loss and injustice that plagued her at night. Hermione had never really had nightmares before, but now they started full force. She would dream of being attacked on the battlefield as Draco looked on with a cold expression and laughed. She would dream of marrying Ron, as everyone expected they would eventually end up together, and picturing Draco on her wedding night. She even dreamt of herself as an old woman, crying alone on a park bench because Draco wasn't there to hold her hand as she neared the end.

She knew, of course, that it was all ridiculous. They'd barely even had a relationship, and she was young. She would find someone she loved, maybe even grow to love Ron back, and would live a long and happy life. Now if only her subconscious would agree with her she could push everything completely to the back of her mind and go through life as a puppet with a painted smile. Not the ideal way to live, but better than crying in a little ball for days on end.

And so, time passed, most unremarkably, until that warm May night. It had been a regular day for Hermione, and, since the weather was particularly warm for the season she decided to throw on her shortest pajama shorts and a tank top and call it an early night.

What woke her up initially was a scream, though she wouldn't recognize that until later. In her groggy, half sleepy state she simply thought it was one of the ghosts and tried to go back to sleep. Then she heard the crashes and sat bolt upright. Before she had a chance to get her bearings, Ginny came charging into her room.

"Hermione, get up, we have to go!" she frantically yelled as she pulled on Hermione's arm, trying to get her out of bed.

"Ginny what is it? what's happening? There was a crash-"

"Death Eaters! in the castle! we need to go, now! get your wand!"

Hermione felt the adrenaline pooling in her veins as she snatched her wand and started frantically making an inventory of all the people she cared about and of how they could be kept safe. There was no time to dwell over the fact that Draco made it to the top of her list.

The two girls charged through the other dorms, waking up all the girls and then ran down the spiral staircase where the found the common room in chaos. Everyone was disoriented, in their sleepwear, scared and confused. Frantically scanning the crowd, Hermione realized that Harry wasn't among them.

"Ginny, I can't see Harry, he's not here...I can't see him anywhere" Hermione panted, slightly panicked. They exchanged a glance and started pushing their way through the crowd once more.

Their steps echoed as they ran through the halls, focusing on breathing and not panicking. They could hear the sounds of crashes and screams in the direction of the astronomy tower, and turned going that way. Then, suddenly, the two girls heard a groan coming from one of the empty classrooms. They halted and flew to the open doorway, where they saw an injured student lying near one of the desks. Her heart beating in her throat, Hermione ran over to the bleeding girl and checked her pulse. She was still alive, but in desperate need of medical attention. Hermione threw a panicked glance at Ginny who stared at her with wide eyes.

"She needs help, she's lost a lot of blood," Hermione whispered.

"You need to stay and heal her then. You know I'm no good at healing spells," Ginny quickly replied.

"No, I can't let you go alone."

"You have to, and I have to go help Harry. Just do what you can, and Hermione please be careful," Ginny threw over her shoulder as she ran out of the classroom in the direction of the astronomy tower.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Hermione repeated this mantra as she cast healing spells over the unconscious girl, trying desperately to remember all the spells she had learned over the years. In minutes, though it seemed like hours to her, the girl had stopped bleeding and her deathly pale pallor started to fade. Finally, satisfied the girl would be okay, Hermione hid her behind one of the desks and ran out of the room and down the corridor. The sounds had quieted somewhat, which only served to make Hermione more worried. Was she too late? Who had survived...?

She took a sharp right and ran into something very solid, which she assumed was one of the castle's moving walls. Her blood ran cold, however, when the wall chuckled in a low menacing tone. Hermione looked up and found herself face to face with five tall, masked figures, one of which was hovering over her.

"Well well well boys, looks like today is a day to celebrate after all," the masked figure drawled,"Dumbledore dead, and Potter's mudblood at our feet. Victory indeed."

Hermione's quick brain began thinking of possible distractions so that she could run in the opposite direction, when suddenly, the masked figure grabbed her arm and shoved her into another empty classroom, straight into one of the desks. She hit her head hard, and somehow, found that all five of them were now surrounding her in a circle. She heard someone whisper the silencing charm and knew all hope for help had been extinguished. She scrambled backwards only to feel another Death Eater kick her back into the center of the circle.

"Now that we've accomplished our mission, I see no reason why we shouldn't celebrate, do you boys? I didn't think so..." the head Death Eater spoke in a low, taunting tone. The circle shrunk in on itself and Hermione felt the air being sucked out of the room and out of her very lungs. They were closing in around her, tall like skyscrapers and menacing. She curled up on herself, very aware that there was nowhere to go and no one to hear her scream. She would need a miracle now...and for the first time in her life a very terrified Hermione prayed for a miracle. But if life had taught her one thing, it was that miracles were not to be counted upon.

"Since I brought us this tasty little dish, I think I should be the first to take a taste," the head Death Eater hissed as he moved towards her. She crawled backwards. The Death Eaters laughed. Hermione had realized what would happen to her now as soon as they tossed her in the room. She had no way of escaping, and she knew they wouldn't let her go... at least not without some amusement first. In her haze of panic she started weighing her options... the possible scenarios she could deal with and the ones she couldn't. She decided she just wanted to survive. Bizarrely she remembered something her dentist told her once back before she had ever heard of the wizarding world. If you concentrate on something really hard it will distract you from the pain. Her breath hitched as the circle closed in more, and, despite herself, her brain began to recite various facts she had learned over the years form books and classes.

_The bellacia charm is particularly effective against vengeful banshees_... The head Death Eater stuck his tongue down her throat.

_Wrackspurts can be found under pine trees_... Hermione Whimpered

_The draught of living death is not to be taken more than two days in a row_... His belt hit the floor at the same time as her knickers

_Draco, I love you_...

The Death Eaters never stopped laughing as Hermione's shrieks pierced the silence.


	5. Chapter 5

CH5:

disclaimer: don't own Harry Potter...if i did, paying for college would be much easier.

"Even when your hope is gone, move along, move along just to make it through." – All-American Rejects

The dawn found the embers dying in the fireplace and Hermione still staring at the place where the flames once were, reliving her memories over and over. Draco had come and left last night. He had wanted to talk…but she didn't know what to say, or what he could possibly say, to make this situation any better. She hated him with every fiber of her being. But at the same time, one small part, a part that had been quieted, beaten, and locked away deep inside her soul kept reminding her that she had never been as happy as she had during those couple of months they were together. With a start, she slammed her fist on her leg and shook her head frequently – her normal reaction when these thoughts began to invade her mind. The pain to feel something, the shaking to empty every loose dangerous thought out of her brain until it was filled with blissful emptiness.

She swiftly stood up and checked her wristwatch…almost time to go to work. She would not let him come here and turn her life upside down, she would continue as usual. He didn't really care about what happened to her, he would probably soon realize that she didn't want to talk, and he would give up. Hermione walked purposefully into her bedroom, and spread out a conservative, smart work outfit, all the while keeping her thoughts completely focused on the task at hand. She got dressed quickly, ate a small breakfast, and flooed to the ministry to her job as an unspeakable. She had been offered the job a few years back, though it took a little while for her to muster the courage to accept it and return to the wizarding world. That was part of the reason this job had been so perfect though, she could work there while still maintaining her anonymity and detachment from society.

Her modest flats made little noise on the ministry tile floors, a sharp contrast to the high heels most of the female workers wore. Hermione had never bothered to dress up much for work. She had no aspirations to get ahead and absolutely no desire to attract any attention. She just wanted to do her job, receive her paycheck, and get through the day well enough. In fact, throughout her time at the ministry, she had only really made one real friend, whose name was

"Brian!" she half-smiled as she walked through the doors, the first smile she had cracked all day.

"Hey there Mione, well you look like all hell froze over. Late night last night?" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny, Bri…did we get those memos the minister was supposed to send down?"

"Yeah sure, I took care of them though, sent it all up to human resources last night."

"Thanks, Bri, you're an angel. I'll just be in my office."

"Sure thing, see you for lunch."

Hermione started walk past him, when he grabbed her elbow, "and hey, Mione, if you want to talk, you know where to find me. I know we joke around a lot…but I can tell your eyes are red and puffy. Anytime, Mione, day or night," he looked straight into her eyes emphasizing his sincerity and gave her one of his heart-melting smiles.

"Thanks Bri, I really apprciate that," she gave him a quick hug and walked into her office, smiling to herself. Brian had always been protective of her. They had met when she first started her job at the ministry, but hadn't really gotten to know each other until the late nights started pouring in after Voldemort's demise. The ministry was picking up a lot of slack during those days, and most of the workers were doing double time. Brian was always cheerful though, even after he'd been at the office for over 10 hours. Sometimes she would get so sick of seeing memos and reports of death and destruction during the war, she would just put her head down on her desk and pretend that the entire world was gone. It would be during those times that Brian would come into her office with a plate of biscuits, rub her back, and offer her some words of encouragement. He was six years her senior, an intelligent man with more goals than she could count. He was the kind of man bosses loved to promote and women all wanted to date. They made an unlikely pair, she being so detached and unhappy, and he being so lively and upbeat. But their friendship worked for them, she seemed to keep him grounded while he kept her from withdrawing into the darkest places of herself. They had never crossed the boundary from friendship to more, however. The last thing she was looking for was a relationship, and Brian had more than enough gorgeous women to keep him occupied.

The first half of the workday passed by uneventfully, then Herminoe decided to go to diagon alley alone for lunch, since Brian was too busy to join her. She was walking back to her office when Brian called out to her, "Oi! Mione, before I forget, there was a bloke by looking for you just now."

Her heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be…He had no way of knowing where she worked…but then he wasn't supposed to know where she lived either…

"What did he look like Bri?"

"Tall, blonde, wearing a fancy suit. He asked for you but I told him you were out to lunch. He left his contact info though, I put it in your office. Nice bloke, pretty polite. Terrible taste in quidditch though, he actually thought the Holyhead Harpies were going to win the world cup this year. I told him he was crazy of course, there's no way they would beat the Chudley Cannons. But he kept insisting their seeker would get the snitch in the blink of an eye. He said we'd probably meet again so we wagered on it. That fool's about to lose twenty galleons for no reason at all! Ha! Imagine…Holyhead Harpies winning the cup…"

She let him babble on about quidditch because she didn't know what she could possibly say. She forgot how to talk. Only three pieces of information registered in her brain and kept repeating themselves over and over again. He knew where she lived. He knew where she worked. He would be back.

"Thanks Bri, I need to go see something real quick," she interrupted, and all but ran back into her office. She locked the door and sat at her desk switching between hyperventilation and blank staring into space. Did he have any idea what he was doing to her? He was going to give her a nervous breakdown or a heart attack before she'd even get the chance to hex him properly.

In the evening, Hermione was pacing her living room nervously. Somehow, she had a feeling he would be back, and, if she judged his intentions correctly, he would be back tonight. He seemed to be bent on doing this and soon. She knew she could have run, asked to spend the night at Bri's or gotten a room in a hotel, but then he'd just be back again the next night. If there was one thing that Draco Malfoy was not, that was a quitter. If something was important to him, and this seemed to be, he would have it. No matter what it took. He proved that already by tracking her down when nobody else had succeeded.

Hours passed by and she was starting to think she had been wrong when she heard a sharp knock on her door. She took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising nausea. Slowly, she stood up and steeled her resolve. He knocked again. She took another deep breath, walked over to the door, and, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu, opened it to reveal Draco Malfoy.

He seemed surprised that she had actually opened the door, and Hermione used that to her advantage. If he wanted to talk, she would talk. But she would have the upper hand.

"Get in, Malfoy. We're going to talk now, since you're so insistant on stalking me until you get your way. But this is going to happen once, only once, and after we are through here, you will leave me alone and let me get on with my life. You will never contact me or come knocking on my flat in the middle of the night, or, so help me Merlin, I will hex you with everything I've got, do you understand?"

He stared back at her with a stoney expression and nodded once before brushing past her and taking a seat on the couch.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, listening to the tick of the clock and the sounds of traffic outside, until Draco cleared his throat and began to talk

"Well, it was easier to get you to talk to me than I thought, Granger. I planned on at least a couple more days of intensive stalking before you'd agree."

She just stared at him.

"Right, better stay on track huh. Look, Hermione, I don't know how to do this. I just want to say that I'm sorry but I know that would never be enough. The things I said to you…leaving you like that…it was all inexcusable, I know that, but I'm still sorry. I'm sorry for that entire godforsaken night, for not being strong enough to stand up to my father then, for abandoning you in favor of doing my so-called duty. For all those things, I'm truly sorry."

She kept silently looking at him, an unreadable expression on her face. He seemed a little unsettled by her expression and hurriedly continued.

"I made a mistake Hermione, a horrible one. I'm so so sorry I said those things to you that day. But you have to know, I didn't kill Dumbledore, I couldn't do it…you have to know that, Hermione", he leaned forward with a desperate look in his eyes.

"Yes. I know that…Harry told us all it was Snape…"she replied slowly.

He looked slightly relieved. "Then you have to understand, I only broke up with you because I wanted to protect you. I didn't mean any of what I said."

She laughed humorlessly. " you 'broke up' with me? When were we ever really together Draco? I was so in love with you. I'm not afraid to admit it now…but it was all a waste of time. All it did was burn me in the end, and I'm so tired of being burned."

He gazed steadily at her and saw that she looked too defeated, too soulless. It couldn't have been all his doing, he knew he was a right bastard for everything he had done but there had to be more to this story than he knew.

"Can you ever forgive me for what I said?"

She sighed, "I've already forgiven you for what you said Draco. But I don't know if I can forgive you for what you did."

Now he was confused. "But I told you…I couldn't do it in the end…"

"Not Dumbledore," she snapped. "Or have you already forgotten a certain wardrobe in a certain room that led a certain group of bloodthirsty Deatheaters into the castle to do as they pleased?"

Slowly, as though in a dream, realization set in. His fist tightened, the veins standing out against his pale skin. He swallowed hard, a dangerous glint entering his eye.

"What the fuck happened that night Hermione?"

N/A: sorry for taking so long to update everyone! It's been a busy quarter...hopefully ill have more time now that its summer. Thanks for all the reviews, they keep me motivated! :)


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: don't own harry potter, kind of wish I owned draco...

CH6

"You're so blind. You can't save me this time. Hope comes from inside, and I feel so low tonight." – Jimmy Eat World

Hermione regarded Draco with a level, neutral expression. "I fail to see how that is any of your business, Malfoy," she answered in a completely expressionless tone. Her pale facial color was the only indicator of her being bothered at all by his words.

He stood up swiftly. "It's damn well my business, Hermione, and you fucking know it! I know better than most what that scum is capable of, and I want to know what happened that night, and I want to know _now,_" he all but screamed, his red face a sharp contrast to her pale one.

"I think it's about time you leave Malfoy," she responded, getting up slowly.

"No, actually, I don't think so. You can't just drop a fucking ominous bomb like that on me and then decide to not tell me a damn thing. Damn it Hermione don't you understand that I care about you? All I ever wanted was just to keep you safe…and now I…I don't even know what happened…I just wanted to see you safe…" he trailed off, his voice going quiet, breathing quickly, visibly deflating. "Please, just talk to me…"

"I can't."

"So that's that then? No second chances, I just leave now and you forget about me?"

"You've had second chances Malfoy, and third, and fourth and fifth. Every day that I waited for you to come around after you left me, and even those first couple of months after that night happened. Every one of those days was a chance, and you failed to take them all. How can you show up here, years later, and expect that I'll tell you everything, forgive you, just like that? It doesn't work like that. I'm sick of your selfishness, I'm sick of waiting for you to make up your mind as to when it's convenient for you to be with me. I'm calling the shots on this one, Malfoy, so you can exit the same way you entered."

He just sat there and took it as she yelled at him and spilled the angry, bitter emotions that had been building inside of her for years. He knew that she was right on most counts, but, more importantly, he knew that she had a full right to believe he was indifferent to her. He couldn't change her mind by simply telling her that he cared. He'd have to show her how much he cared for her. Resolving to go home and think of ways to do just that, Draco got up to leave. He turned around at the door and threw her one last look.

"I'm really sorry, Hermione."

"I really wish that were enough," and she closed the door in his face for the second night in a row.

The next night, Hermione had quite a shock waiting for her when she returned home from work. She opened the door of her flat and found every surface in the entire room covered with vases of gorgeous white lilies and lilac clusters. She slowly made her way through the flat gawking at all the flowers. They were everywhere, extending through the living room and kitchen and into the bedroom. She apprehensively walked into that room, and found the flowers surrounding her desk and bed. On her pillow lay a small note. Hermione unfolded the note with shaking fingers and read the simple words, _"you're even more beautiful."_

She half sighed half snorted. He would write something so corny and generic, she thought, and tossed the note into her trash can. Hermione shifted some of the flowers around on her bed and plopped down in the empty space. It was just like him to do such a grand and…well, expensive…gesture. Of course, he'd given no thought to her feelings on the matter. First off, he completely ignored her when she told him, very clearly, she did not want him to stalk her anymore. Hermione called invading her flat with an army of flowers stalking. He also hadn't considered that maybe his attentions made her uncomfortable. So the selfish prick was just thinking of himself and of what he wanted. Again.

She kept replaying all the things that were potentially wrong with his grand gesture, but that little tiny part of her that had been locked away for so long swooned and screamed at how wonderful the gesture really was. If she was entirely honest with herself, Hermione had to admit that that little part of her was happy, pleased to have this attention. Nobody had ever done something this beautiful for her, she thought, absentmindedly stroking one of the lilies. White lilies were her favorite. He remembered. She shook her head again violently. This didn't change a thing, a room of flowers did not make up for what he did or for his complete abandonment. She stood up and vanished all of the flowers, except the one in her hand. If ever asked, she would swear up and down that she just forgot to vanish that one, but that night it kept her company on her nightstand, in her favorite vase.

The next night, when she came home from work, Hermione found a copy of _A Magicians Guide to Charms, Hexes, and Other Spellwork _waiting on her doorstep. The book she had given him that day in the library, when he had needed help with his essay on the farcio charm. Attached was a note that said, _"I miss those days. I bet you do too."_ Hermione was outraged. Who was he to remind her of those times, or to assume that she missed them. He abandoned her, not the other way around, and it was vintage selfish Draco to pretend otherwise. With an angry huff, Hermione turned to the fireplace. She couldn't quite bring herself to burn the book so she threw it into the corner instead.

The night after that, Hermione returned home to a melody playing from her bedroom. She walked in to find a small dark wood music box on her desk. It was open, and inside, there were two little figurines, one of a blonde gentleman wearing a tuxedo, and one of a brown, curly-haired lady wearing a dark red evening gown. They were clearly charmed, because the gentleman walked up to the lady and gave a deep bow with his hand extended. The lady then curtseyed and took his hand, and the two began twirling in a flawless waltz as the melody surrounded them. The melody that seemed very familiar…

_Love of mine, someday you will die_

_But I'll be close behind_

_I'll follow you into the dark._

_No blinding lights, or tunnels to gates of white, just our hands clasped so tight_

_Waiting for the hint of a spark._

_If heaven and hell decide, that they both are satisfied_

_Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs_

_If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks_

_Then I'll follow you into the dark._

She definitely recognized the melody. It was one of her favorite songs and she used to sing it to Draco when he had trouble sleeping or when his troubles were weighing too heavily on him. She would wrap him in her arms and sing this song to him, and it would help. Of course he'd want to remind her of those nights, but this was yet another example of the times when she gave to him and he just took and took. She gave comfort and stood loyally by him, and he just used her, then abandoned her when she needed him most. Hermione closed the music box…selfish, selfish, selfish.

The next night, Hermione opened the door of her flat to the sound of plaintive meowing coming from her kitchen. There sat a small ginger kitten with a blue bow around its neck and a bowl next to it that said Crookshanks II. The note said _"I know you can't replace what used to be. But you can create new beginnings. PS call him whatever you want, "Crookshanks II" just seemed appropriate."_ This time, Hermione couldn't keep herself from tearing up. She had lost Crookshanks during the war when he was hit with a stray spell. She could still remember feeling the sharp loss of her most faithful companion. The kitten meowed, and Hermione picked it up into her lap. She couldn't help but admit that this was a wonderful gift. Draco had never liked crookshanks, or cats much for that matter, but he got her this little guy. This gift was truly selfless It focused on making her happy and helping her move on, not on tricking her into talking to him or reminding her of the past. Hermione felt a small smile begin to appear as she stroked the kitten.

"I don't think Crookshanks II is a good name for you sweetie, no, no it's not. I think you look more like a…hmm…what do you look like?" she mused as the cat jumped off her lap and proceeded to make a mess of its cat food on the kitchen floor.

"Well you're just a little artist aren't you, expressing yourself on my floor there? Hmm…I think I'll name you Toulouse…after a wonderful muggle painter." She picked the kitten up again, stroking his soft fur.

"Maybe sometimes life _can_ continue, Toulouse…not that I'm going to forgive him or anything, but maybe we can be civil. Maybe things don't have to be so dark. Maybe, with some time, I can find that girl again…the one who used to be so happy. What do you think Toulouse, hmm?" she looked down at the little kitten, but he was already asleep curled into a blissful furry ball.

NA: thanks for all the reviews everyone! You're all awesome! : ) and the melody in the music box is the song "I will follow you into the dark" by death cab for cutie.


	7. Chapter 7

CH7

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter.

"I want to live where soul meets body, and let the sun wrap its arms around me, and bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing, and feel, feel what it's like to be new." – Death Cab for Cutie

The next day seemed a lot brighter to Hermione. She didn't know what to make of Draco's gifts and she wasn't ready to even contemplate being anything more than civil towards him, but with Toulouse curled up against her side and the gorgeous day blossoming outside she couldn't help but feel the stirrings of contentment. She felt like a small part of her old self had been awakened, and it felt good. It felt good to have a companion again, someone to take care of, someone to share her bed with. It felt good not to be alone, she thought as she stroked Toulouse's furry back.

She barely even noticed how she started to hum as she got ready for the day, something that she hadn't done in years, putting a little more care into her outfit than usual. She even smiled a little looking in the mirror. She felt like an old vase that someone had dusted off a bit, she felt alive. And so, Hermione decided to do something she hadn't done in a very long time. She decided to have breakfast at one of her favorite old restaurants in Diagon Alley, a place she hadn't frequented during her self-exile and one she had missed dearly.

The Dirty Spoon was a small, hole-in-the-wall establishment that was nice enough to be respectable but out of the way enough to make Hermione comfortable spending time there. She was truly looking forward to a nice English breakfast and a cup of their famous coffee and reading a nice book in one of their corner booths. She kept her head down as the waiter led her to the booth, but if she had looked up she would have noticed a gentleman with brown curly hair cast a surprised, furtive look at her, and quickly dash out of the restaurant. Hermione got situated in her booth and took a nice muggle novel out of her bag, waiting for the waiter to come take her order.

Once the waiter had come and gone, Hermione lost herself in the wonderful fiction of Jane Austen. She was just reading about the dreamy Mr. Darcy when she heard a click out of the corner of the room. She glanced up and found herself looking straight at a camera lens and a reporter standing behind it. Hermione froze…this couldn't be happening. They couldn't be taking a picture of her, they couldn't possibly still care about her. But they were taking pictures, and, judging by the crowds of reporters heading towards the restaurant, they did care. Everyone would see these pictures. Everyone would know where she was. The little world she had spent so long building for herself would come crashing down. She needed to leave, immediately. Hermione shot up from the booth seat and pushed past the reporter who started chasing after her. She found more reporters when she got outside, surrounding her, asking her questions, smothering her.

"Miss Granger, where have you been all this time?"

"Miss Granger, why have you decided to come out of hiding now? Has something happened?"

"Miss Granger….a word, Miss, smile for the camera…"

She tried to run away from them, but the crowd was too thick, blinding her with its cameras and deafening her with its yells. She put her hands over her face and tried to concentrate on breathing. All of the sudden she felt an arm grab her elbow and another arm wind around her waist. She felt herself being pulled through the crowd, shielded by another body, but was too withdrawn within herself to care. The hand was pulling her away from the crowd, prompting her to run. She followed. Once she felt fresh air hit her face, she opened her eyes and saw the unmistakable blond hair. She didn't want to go anywhere with him, she didn't trust him. Maybe she was too afraid or she heard the reporters following behind, but she continued to follow him.

They ran out of Diagon Alley and into muggle London, the reporters still following behind. Suddenly, Draco made a sharp left and led her straight into a building that she recognized to be a muggle bar. She was just about to ask what they were doing, when Draco spoke to the barmaid.

"Hey Jen, listen, we gotta hide from the reporters, can we use your cellar? Last time, I swear."

The pretty, blonde barmaid huffed, "alright Draco, go on down, but this is the last time, the _last_ time you hear?"

Draco helped Hermione down into the door behind the bar first. "Yeah yeah I know. Hey tell Sammy I say hi okay. Tell him I'll be by soon to take him to the "bassball" or whatchimacallit game okay?"

The barmaid smiled, "It's called _base_ball Draco" she called as the back of his head was disappearing into the cellar.

Once he had descended down into the cellar, Draco securely fastened the door behind him and fumbled for his wand, which he seemed to misplace. He finally found it and mumbled _lumos_ under his breath to make sure he properly closed the door.

"Want to make sure those pricks don't follow us down here, right Mione?" he said, checking the deadbolt. No Answer.

"Mione?" he turned around lighting the cellar behind him, and, at first glance couldn't find her anywhere. He shined the light further out into the room, looking closely. Then he spotted her, huddled in a small ball in the corner of the damp room.

"Mione?" he cautiously approached her, as she continued to rock back and forth. He reached out a hand to lightly touch her shoulder and she let out a small shriek and shrank back into herself.

"Mione, it's okay, they're gone now. They can't find you down here, trust me." But he saw that his words had no effect as she continued to rock back and forth. He reached out a hand again, hoping to comfort her somehow, but this time he was met with a shriek of anger as she smacked his hand away.

"Don't touch me! Get away from me!" she yelled as she half slapped, half pushed his arm and torso away.

"It's just me, Mione…you know I'm not going to hurt you…" he whispered, completely bewildered. She kept breathing heavily trying to calm herself.

Draco saw that she seemed to be having some sort of panic attack and that him being close to her seemed to make it worse, so he went to the other corner of the room, farthest from her, but continued projecting light from his wand around the room. He sat there and watched her for a few minutes, as she calmed down and regained her composure. Finally, she straightened up a little and glanced towards him.

"I…I don't like to be touched," Hermione whispered. Her voice sounded heartbroken and weary to Draco and all he wanted to do was just wrap her in his arms and tell her that everything would turn out alright, just like he used to do. Of course, his promises meant little then. Nothing turned out alright in the end. So he just settled for a small nod.

He got up then and handed her his jacket, mumbling something about the cold, and made sure she wrapped it tightly around her shoulders before returning to his own corner. There were a few more minutes of silence, until Draco finally couldn't take it.

"So did you hear that they fired professor Sprout?" he asked conversationally and was happy to see her look up in surprise and interest. Clearly she had expected an interrogation or at least some kind of alarmed offerings of help from his end. That's what everyone else seemed to do. Despite herself, she was interested.

"Really? What could she possibly have done wrong, she was the most straightlaced teacher besides McGonagall."

"Well, apparently, she dipped her professorly pen in a student's inkwell…or the other way around as the case may be. If you catch my drift."

"Nooo! She did not!" Hermione gasped, scandalized.

"Oh, she did indeed. I know the guy. Turns out it was Blaise Zabini, in his seventh year. The bloke charmed all the girls in our grade, and even that old bat! And when the board found out about it a few years later, they sacked her. Quite the scandel, but allowances must be made. Not one girl could ever resist him, why should Sprout be an exception," Draco chuckled.

"He did not charm _every_ girl, and there _was _one who resisted him thank you very much," Hermione sniffed haughtily.

"Yes, well, you were always the hard to get one…" he smiled sadly. She looked away. There was more awkward silence. This time it was Hermione who broke it.

"So what did you end up doing after the war?" she asked tentatively.

"You really want to know?"

"Well I assume we're trapped here for a while. That crowd of leeches probably isn't going anywhere for a while, might as well."

"Hah…I'm glad to know I have such a breathless audience."

"Just tell me."

"Alright, where to start," Draco heaved a sigh. He didn't really like talking about that part of his life, but he could see she needed a distraction. He didn't want the panic attack or whatever that was coming back, and she was right, they were probably stuck there for a while. Besides, she had a right to know about his life if he wanted to know about hers. He would set the example.

"Well, after that night when…you know what happened…Snape took me away to the manor where he and my father gave me the world's biggest rant on how I failed them, how I was a disappointment to my name, a poor excuse for a son, you know, the usual. That was easy enough to tolerate compared to what came next," he paused, then his mocking tone turned darker. "The Dark Lord came to the manor then…well, I'll spare you the details…but let's just say that failing the Dark Lord is not advisable for your health," he whispered bitterly.

"I recovered for months after, then, to my bewilderment, somehow the final blow of the war had arrived. I fought in the final battle, as you know, but for the light side. I couldn't fight for that madman anymore. Not after what he did to me…not after what he did to my…" he caught himself, "Well, after the final battle, I was left the only Malfoy in the line. Guess what that made me? Malfoy heir to the company. So, I took over as director and found that I actually liked it quite a bit. I also found that my salary was ridiculous, and I had bags of money that I didn't know what to do with. So I gave it away."

Here, Hermione gave a short unladylike snort. "Well that's just too good. I can see the picture now: Lord Malfoy of the manor, giving his piles of money away to poor, unfortunate slytherins who can't afford the latest broom to race on!" she laughed again.

He took her mocking in stride, though. "Actually, I gave the money to charity causes. The ones I found needed it the most…the ones that would actually give something good to the less fortunate…"

"Just as long as they are purebloods, no doubt."

"No. Hunger and cold have a funny way of leveling the playing field. I give the money to anyone who needs it."

"Surely not the mudbloods too, Lord Malfoy? What would your father say?"

Now he was getting angry. "First of all don't call me that. My father was Lord Malfoy, I'm not him. And I thought I told you not to use that word, not in my presence. And I told you I give it to everyone. The woman who works in this bar also works in an orphanage, that's how I know her. I donate to the orphanage. The _muggle_ orphanage. If you would just open your mind for one tiny minute and consider the possibility that I don't have the views that my father did, that maybe I never had those views..."

"No, Malfoy, I can't open my mind to that! I opened my mind to that once, remember? Remember that night when you told me that a pureblood could never love a mudblood like me? Do I need anymore proof than that?" she spat at him.

"So we're back to that again are we? You used that word that night, Hermione, not me. I was only trying to protect you, I never meant any of it, and I told you that already, and you said you forgave me!" he rambled, frustrated.

"Then why does it still hurt?" she hissed.

He stared at her for a few moments. Her previously aloof demeanor had changed completely. She was yelling, her hair nearly crackling with electricity and her cheeks pink. She looked angry, betrayed, bitter. It was remarkably different from the terrified, lifeless, creature curled up in a little ball in the corner. She looked alive. He had the overwhelming momentary urge to kiss her. Instead he glared.

"I don't know what to say to you Hermione. I can't change the past, I can only try to help your future, and you know I've already tried to do that, but you won't let me! You can keep punishing me forever, or we can move on and you can still punish me but at least we'd be moving forward. I want to be with you, Hermione, and I know you're not indifferent to me either. I'm not saying we have to be anything serious if you don't want, but can't we at least be friends? I'll do my best to make you happy. I'll give you whatever you want, just tell me what it is that you want." He finished, his voice going from angry to pleading.

She regarded him as he made his speech. He was sincere, she could see it in his eyes. All those convictions she had held about his role in the events of that night were slowly breaking down. Yes, it was his fault those men were in the castle, but how could he have known what they would do. He was only a boy, and people make mistakes, especially when they're under so much pressure. She knew he didn't mean for anything bad to happen, and in the end he couldn't kill Dumbledore. And he paid the price for it. She couldn't shake the image of him, as she remembered him, kneeling terrified in a room as the dark lord tortured him. There was so much darkness in the world that sometimes she felt she would be consumed by it. Darkness for her, for him, for all the people lost in the war and all those who survived only to mourn for them. It seeped into every crack in the room, every pore in her body, and threatened to choke her. She heaved a sigh and leaned back against the cold cellar wall.

"I just want to see something beautiful again," She whispered.

It was fifteen more minutes until the pretty barmaid from upstairs came down to tell them that the crowd had dispersed. They climbed up the ladder in silence, and Draco said a quick goodbye to the barmaid. When they got outside, Hermione made to give him his jacket but he wouldn't take it.

"Keep it, it's damp out. You can return it later," he mumbled, and she just nodded.

She cleared her throat and whispered, "Thank you. For the jacket, and for helping me today."

"Anytime, Mione."

She nodded once more and walked off towards diagon alley as Draco disappeared into the London mist.

A/N: please review! and special thanks to those of you who have already reviewed! If I could give each of you your very own Draco, I would :)


	8. Chapter 8

Hi Guys! I'm so sorry it took so long to update...if I have any readers left, I made this chapter a long one for you! I'll definitely try to be updating a lot more often this summer.

I hope you enjoy! and thanks for all the reviews!

Disclaimer: Even after all this time, I still don't own harry potter!

"Love will come through, it's just waiting for you." - Travis "love will come through"

CH8

Hermione huffed to herself as she walked towards the door…would she never get an evening's peace now that Draco was back? Hardly two days had passed since the horrible reporters chasing her down experience, and already he was back, knocking at her door. And he always seemed to know the exact time when she'd come back home and gotten all settled down to a good book to come and disturb her peace. But then, why should she be surprised, he seemed to know everything about her life – and it truly unsettled her. Hermione wasn't used to people intruding on her life and reading her so easily. She liked to hold the secret trump card, but with Draco it never seemed to work that way. And of course, when she opened the door he was wearing a pleasant half-smile, half-smirk, as if he hadn't just intruded on her privacy and disrupted her evening.

"Draco…I wish I could say I was surprised, but you seem to show up here like clockwork," she snarked.

"And a good evening to you too m'lady!" he turned a charming smile at her. With his dancing eyes and dimples, he looked just as handsome as he had been years ago. And much happier than she had seen him in a long while. Much too happy, actually…too pleased with himself.

"And to what do I owe this…pleasure?" she asked.

"I came to grant your request," he smiled even futher.

"And what request might that be?"

"Why, to see something beautiful of course. Your wish is my command m'lady, and I've got just the thing! If you would grace me with your lovely presence for the evening, I'd like to show you something," he proclaimed, then bowed in an exaggerated, old fashioned way and held out his hand.

Damn him, she thought, but he could be charming when he wanted to. She narrowed her eyes…this couldn't possibly end well. But he had saved her from those reporters, and he was truly sorry, and it couldn't really hurt to see what he wanted to show her could it? No, Hermione! Her mind rebelled…he had hurt her so much before, why should she trust him now? But he couldn't have anything bad planned now, she reasoned, and the war was over and she had her wand…she could always hex him if anything. But what if it was worse…what if she actually became inclined to forgive him? She frowned. He didn't deserve her forgiveness. But then, did he deserve her scalding anger? He hadn't meant to hurt her, she did know that…but did that matter, in the face of reality? He hadn't meant to hurt her, but he did, and, her soul, mind, and body were broken because of him. But he wanted to fix that now…she looked up at him.

He was watching her uncertainly and a little guardedly, like he was worried for her sanity, and she realized that her inner battle must have played out on her face for him to see. Then she couldn't help herself, she started laughing. Now he looked positively alarmed, which only made her laugh harder. And suddenly, her mood started lifting a little, and what the hell, why not go with him just this once?

She reached out and took his hand, and his face cleared at once, resuming his old happy smile, and he pulled her out into the hallway. He led her out the door and dropped her hand, leaving her standing there puzzled while he searched for something in the bushes. Finally, he pulled out a firebolt and turned to her with a grin.

"Ohhhh no, Draco Malfoy, if you think I'm getting on that thing you're as loony as I am," she said, backing away, holding up her hands as if warding off a demon.

"You're not loony. And it's fun, you'll like it don't worry. And I always did promise that I'd teach you to properly ride a broomstick," he grinned at her cheekily.

She glared back, "Ha. Ha. Read my lips Draco, no. way. In. hell. And if you think that forcing me to ride a broom is the best way to get back into my good graces then I really don't know what to say to you."

"This isn't the thing I wanted to show you, Mione, it's not like I expected you to get giddy and squeal with excitement at riding a broom. But this is the best way to get there…they have anti-apparation wards on the estate. Plus tonight is a beautiful night, and I promise, you'll be perfectly safe with me," he finished softly.

And against all her better judgement, all her previous experience, she knew that she would be perfectly safe with him. She chalked it up to fatigue and the magic of the evening stars and full moon, when she hesitantly took his hand and mounted the broom behind him. She grabbed his waist as he kicked off powerfully, and couldn't stop the small shriek of terror that forced its way out of her throat.

"Ohh we're gonna die…oh we're gonna die, we're gonna die. This is not natural, man was not meant to fly, ohhhh Merlin I hate brooms!" she moaned, and buried her eyes in Draco's back as they soared higher and higher into the clouds.

"Mione, open your eyes and look down. From up here, the whole world is yours," she heard him say over the wind, and slowly opened her eyes.

It really was beautiful, she thought with a gasp. She could see all the little houses and trees far beneath them, covered with shadows and bedroom lights. The clouds made a wispy blanket around them, and the stars formed a canopy of diamonds high above her head. It seemed like the full moon shone for them alone, like the world below them had somehow separated, like they were the only two people alive. The air smelled sweet and crisp, and Hermione could see a few owls zooming around them, their eyes glowing bright and their soft hoots coloring the night. All of a sudden, she felt peaceful like she hadn't felt in years, and, when they landed her face was frozen in a wondering smile.

Upon landing, Draco looked back to make sure she was okay, expecting another angry tongue lashing. Instead, he found her smiling, and he thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It was like all the sorrow was erased from her face, she looked 10 years younger and more beautiful than his memories could ever be…and alive. There was still some sadness lurking in her eyes, but, for once, it took a backseat to joy. He felt himself grinning like a fool.

"I take it you liked the ride then?" he asked, slightly smug.

Her smile was instantly replaced with a teasing smirk. "I admit to nothing. Brooms are still the devil." She replied, but her eyes were dancing with mirth. He chuckled. The old Hermione was still in there somewhere, and he'd be damned if he couldn't get her out somehow.

"Come on," he said, and took her hand, leading her towards a large iron gate. It was only then that Hermione noticed that they were standing in front of a large mansion, and the sign over the gate said "Parkinson Manor."

Instantly, she recoiled and yanked her hand away.

"Parkinson Manor? Why are we here Draco? I don't want to be here…" she said, backing away.

Draco was confused for a second, but then he understood. She thought they were former death eaters, she thought he had betrayed her somehow by bringing her here, to people who would hate her or harm her.

"No no, Mione, the Parkinsons changed sides early in the war, they were playing double agent. They revealed it after the war, but I guess you might not have heard…being away from the wizarding world so much and all…they did try to minimize publicity though," he hurried to explain.

"Still…why bring me here? There's certainly nothing I want to see here."

"I promise, what I want to show you will be worth the visit. And Pansy and her parents aren't even here, they're away on holiday. We're here to see her grandparents," he said.

Her expression became even more confused. "Her grandparents, why?"

"Well follow me, and you'll see, won't you?" he beckoned towards her once more.

Hesitantly, she followed him as he led them down the path, until they came to the front doors and he rang the giant, ominous-sounding bell. They waited a few minutes, until the door opened to reveal a smartly dressed butler.

"Hello, Dylan, would you please tell the lord and lady Parkinson that we are here," Draco requested.

"Certainly, sir," replied the butler, and disappeared into the long, candle-lit hallway behind them.

Hermione was uneasy. The inside of the manor was as forboding as the outside, with its antique furniture, elaborate candelabras, and sneering portraits of pureblooded witches and wizards looking down at her.

"Draco…I'm not sure I want to be here," she whispered, away from the portrait's prying ears.

"Don't worry, you're safe here, I promise," he whispered back, "and I swear, this is the most beautiful thing I know. I want you to see it."

She cast another doubtful glance around the manor. "Draco, it's nice…very well decorated, lovely artwork…I just don't think…"

"Not the mansion," he chuckled, "you'll see…"

Just then the butler returned. "The lord and lady will see you both in the parlor, Mr. Malfoy, if you'll please follow me," he proclaimed and led them down the corridor. _Oh great, more portraits_, Hermione thought, as the faces of the Parkinson ancestors bore down on her with scrutinizing looks. She heard them whispering amongst themselves, "he should have married Pansy, did he break up with her for this...this... girl?" "No, no, Matilda, don't worry, they aren't together look…they couldn't be more estranged." "Good! Pansy still has a chance! Remind me to point her towards my old copy of _A Witch's Guide to Landing a Pureblood Wizard_, will you Alpheaus?"

"Don't mind them," Draco whispered and took her hand, "it's boring being a portrait…you can't blame them for meddling." He glanced at her pale face then. "And Pansy and I were never together. Never will be. I'm…otherwise interested." He looked at her closely, but she looked away. He smiled to himself and gave her hand a short squeeze. _Time_, he thought, _just more time_.

Finally, they got to the end of the corrider, and emerged in a parlor, with several armchairs, a fireplace, and a tea table all set up. Hermione immediately liked this room much better - it was decorated in light creams and forest greens, with a homely lived-in air. The fire was crackeling and the lighting was much better. She then noticed that the table was all set for tea, and at the table sat a small, elderly couple. Her eye was drawn to their hands lying casually on the table. The old man's hand was covering the woman's, and he was absentmindedly tracing circles on the back of her hand. The gesture seemed completely unconscious, as if they knew no other way to sit together. The man was dressed in traditional wizarding garb, but his face showed none of the haughtiness of his pureblooded ancestors. On the contrary, he looked pleasant, and intelligent, with a gleam in his eye. The lady was dressed in beige wizarding robes, with a simple necklace of silver around her neck, and she looked positively delighted to see them.

"Lord and Lady Parkinson, may I introduce my old friend, Hermione Granger," he announced walking towards them, "Hermione, these are Pansy's grandparents, on her father's side, and they've invited us over for tea."

She looked at them nervously. "It's quite a pleasure, Lord and Lady…" she began, but the Lady interrupted her, "please! Call me Morgause! And this is Lionel, and we are both so happy to have you here. Draco and our little Pansy have been friends ever since childhood, and we look upon him as our own grandson. He speaks very highly of you dear, and we are so delighted to meet the infamous hero, Hermione Granger!"

Hermione chuckled nervously and took a seat next to Draco. But as she took tea with the Parkinsons, her unease melted away and she saw why Draco wanted her to meet them. They were absolutely lovely. During the war they had never chosen a side. Being too old for battle, they remained on the sidelines, but when their children and grandchildren had joined the fray they taught them all they knew in magic. She found out that Lionel used to be a Transfiguration professor, and Morgause had been a celebrated artist. Their kindness, unquestioning acceptance, and friendly smiles warmed her heart. But most of all, she noticed that, although they were both well over a hundred, they were still so in love. She learned that they had courted through school, and married quite young. For over a hundred years, they had lived together, had children, been through wars and turmoil, yet their love had not faded. This was obvious in the little caresses Morgause gave her husband as she talked, in the arm he would casually throw around her shoulder, in the secret smiles that they shared even still. These were two people who had completely shared one life together, and emerged without bitterness or resentment, only pure companionship and devotion. It very nearly moved her to tears.

As they were leaving, Draco stepped aside with Alpheaus to discuss a Transfiguration spell, and Morgause took Hermione aside. She looked at her seriously, and put a hand on her arm. "You've been through great trials little one, that's plain to see," she began, eyes looking deep into what Hermione felt like was her soul, "But you must learn to trust again. Otherwise, what good will your life do? What purpose will it serve without friendship? Believe me, Hermione, love is difficult to sustain. It means giving the other person the complete power to hurt you, and trying your hardest to rebound when they do. Because they will hurt you…it's inevitable. Once, a long time ago, Alpheaus was unfaithful to me. And it took me a great long time to heal, to learn to trust him again. But in the end, I knew I had to…for he was my other half. And I had hurt him in other ways, which he had to forgive. But it must be so, for only from the ashes can another phoenix rise. Draco is a good man, so different from his father. Give him a chance, and remember, there can be no life without love."

Hermione was speechless, but it seemed the old lady did not expect an answer. With a long hug, and a warm farewell, she sent her and Draco off into the night, and as Hermione looked back, she saw them share a look of such deep devotion, that she felt a stab in her heart. No matter how much she denied it, sought solitude, fought her feelings, she knew she wished deep down that someday, somehow, a man would look at her like that, and that she could return that look.

The two of them made their way back to the broom in companionable silence, Hermione deep in thought, and Draco enjoying the evening. The broom ride back seemed much shorter to her, and before she knew it, they had arrived at her front door. Draco dismounted and helped her off the broom, and they stood in front of the door facing each other. There was a moment of awkward silence, then Hermione cleared her throat.

"Draco…thank you. That was truly wonderful. This whole evening was…beautiful," she whispered. Then suddenly, without knowing why, she reached up and kissed him. It wasn't a long kiss, or a passionate one, just a simple soft peck on the lips. But it scared her…when had she decided to pursue any sort of romance with Draco? Frienship, yes, but they're kissing now? Silent and wide-eyed, she pulled away walked into her apartment, leaving Draco shocked and open-mouthed, reaching to absentmindedly touch his lips.

As she got ready for bed, Hermione knew that she probably had just made a mistake. And yet, she hummed as she got into her pajamas, and she couldn't quite suppress the smile that grew on her face as she fell asleep – the largest smile in years.

A/N:

I hope you enjoyed that...Hermione's on her way to healing, but it'll be a long process and Draco will have to earn every scrap of trust she gives him.

Please review! :)


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